


Trinity

by Bleed_Peroxide



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleed_Peroxide/pseuds/Bleed_Peroxide
Summary: Perhaps he could brand the sensation of it into his flesh, the smell of Eiji’s homemade cooking drifting into the living room. Perhaps then he could memorize it, encase it in glass like a beast and his rose; he could build a fortress in his mind to store those memories. It’d be the envy of all, adorned with the most decadent of his yearnings and fantasies.In the palace of his mind, there was not two but three, a holy trinity that neither God nor hell could sunder.[Completed as part of the #BFSecretSanta gift exchange on Twitter.]





	Trinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knoxoursavior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/gifts).



 Sing had often heard comparisons to the divine, to the diabolic, whenever Ash’s name was brought into a conversation.     

Not a boy, not a man, but rather a being that bordered on the mythical - anytime Sing heard Ash’s name uttered, it was always with reverence. Two seemingly nonsensical words strung together carried the religious weight of beads on a rosary -  _Ash Lynx_ became something of an invocation, evoking images of hellfire, of a blood-soaked predator that prowled the wilds. Even Shorter, who was closer to Ash than perhaps anyone, had always spoken of him with equal measures of fondness and utmost respect.  

For his part, Sing had remained unconvinced.  

Gang leader or not, Ash was still just a human being. Even as he ran down the crumbling hallways to confront Ash, he was convinced that whoever it was that these idiots idolized wasn’t worth an ounce of the accolades heaped upon his shoulders.  

So he was a good shot, so he could fend for himself in a knife fight. That was the bare minimum if you wanted to last a day on the streets.  

Sing had taken note of the shells littering the floor around Ash - from the looks of it, he’d unloaded his entire fucking assault rifle into a  _civilian_. The man wore surgical scrubs and spectacles, and appeared as though he’d been slaughtered while cowering in the corner. The henchmen Ash had killed around the mansion all died with quick, efficient shots to the head or heart. It made Sing wonder why Ash had picked out this unremarkable man to die in such a savage manner.  

His questions only increased as he took in the sight of the blonde standing motionlessly in front of the gurney, still and emotionless as a statue cast in marble.  

Until Ash turned around at the sound of Sing’s voice.  

Ash was  _nothing_ like people described.  

“He’s got blonde hair and green eyes,” one of Ash’s men had said as they’d laid out plans hours before. “That Dino guy likes to dress him up, so he probably ain’t in street clothes.”  

Not that he had platinum hair like spun gold, or eyes that caught the light like a gemstone.  

Not that Sing’s traitorous heart would stutter in his chest at the sight of him, that his breath would catch in his throat. 

He was Lucifer made flesh, God’s most beloved “morning star”. Amidst the flames and the smell of gunpowder, he stood with the elegance of a prince upon his gilded throne. Ash was littered in cuts and burns, yet Sing could easily see the resplendent vision he must have presented when dressed to the nines.  

_He really_ is  _a demon_ , Sing thought instead. Even in his own mind, he knew it was a lie. Ash looked closer to an angel than to any demonic beings from mythology. No demon could be so beauti- 

_Stop that._

 Memories of long-forgotten Sunday school classes bubbled to the forefront of Sing’s mind, a snippet of scripture parroted back in the bored monotone of small children.  

_Then a war broke out in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But the dragon was not strong enough, and no longer was any place found in heaven for him and his angels. And the great dragon was hurled down—the ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him._  

Sing had as much belief in the scriptures as he did in Santa Claus. Yet as he gazed upon Ash, he felt a twinge of sympathy for the men that wrote their fairy tales on stone slabs so long ago.  

As he stared at Ash, anointed in flame, Sing found himself desperately needing a word - an  _excuse_ \- to explain the reason why his eyes found themselves riveted to the unearthly being before him. 

* * *

 People often made animal comparisons to Ash, but Sing found it far easier to do so with the unassuming boy that he stumbled upon in the middle of the street.  

Eiji was a stupid little lamb licking at the bloody maw of a wolf.  He was the rabbit nestled against the belly of a lynx, grooming the creature’s speckled fur as it purred in contentment.  

Sing couldn’t understand it.  

What was it about Eiji that had driven Ash to kill his best friend to save his worthless life? What had compelled him to shelter such a useless liability?  

Ash might as well have painted a target on the boy’s head, adding a flashing neon sign that said  _Go ahead and kill me._ It was obvious at a glance that he’d never wielded a weapon before - even as he’d held a shard of glass to Yut-Lung’s neck, a gun to Yut-Lung’s back, his hands trembled like a leaf.  

Despite the authority he’d tried to inject into his words, Eiji’s voice was infused with kindness that that was utterly ill-suited to the world around him - it was the rich warmth of hot chocolate in December, the whisper of cashmere on skin. Eiji was far too soft-spoken and gentle for Sing to believe that he was accustomed to raising his voice at all, let alone giving orders.  

Even now, as he stood vigil over the boy’s bed as he slept, he tried to make sense of who this Eiji Okumura was that could render the legendary Ash Lynx into a mere… 

_A normal person. Not a gang leader, not Lucifer - just a teenage boy._  

He knew that Ash was the last person on earth to be swayed by a pretty face, so it couldn’t have been Eiji’s looks that had captivated him. Indeed, he bore a lot of uncanny similarities to  _Sing_ , with his dark eyes, jet-black hair, and petite stature. However, he had a sharpness to his jawline that the younger boy lacked, giving his soft features a rather handsome edge - Eiji was admittedly easy on the eyes, if Sing were honest with himself…. but still, woefully  _plain_ when compared to Ash.  

He remembered the way Eiji’s eyes had widened when Sing had asked him which gang he was in. It had seemed like a valid question at the time - perhaps he was a new initiate into the Chinatown gang, or perhaps one of Ash’s boys. Maybe he was involved in another one entirely, someone he had to keep tabs on.  

“I’m Ash’s friend,” was what Eiji had said instead.  

It had given Sing pause - the word  _friend_ was not a word used lightly in this world, least of all in connection to someone like Ash.  _Friend_ meant weakness,  _friend_ meant a vulnerability, a target - nobody in their right mind would use it so lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Yet it had tumbled from Eiji’s lips without hesitation, spoken with such assurance and familiarity that Sing didn’t question its validity. Words were sacred vows, more binding than paper and ink - there was no way Ash would permit Eiji to speak of that bond with such weighted words unless he could uphold the unspoken promise that it carried with it.  

“I don’t want you seeing me like this!”  

Even as the crowd had reveled in Ash’s victory, even as Ash held that knife aloft as proof… the only words he had were reserved for a lone spectator in the crowd, eyes wide and skin pale as a sheet as though he were about to be sick. He looked utterly out of place, a terrified lamb among howling wolves thirsty for blood.  

_See you like what?_  

How else  _could_ Ash Lynx be seen besides covered in blood? Whoever this kid was… somehow,  _somehow_ , he’d managed to chip at the walls of the city’s ice prince, walked straight into past the flames and gunfire and nestled himself into a place more raw and vulnerable. Whatever it was that they shared must have been unbearably precious - Ash was economical with his words, yet he still chose to reserve them for what was clearly an apology.  

Ash  _never_ asked for forgiveness.  

_Why him? Why?_  

Eiji muttered something in his sleep, drawing Sing’s thoughts back to the present.   

Growing up on the streets, one learned to sleep without exposing their most vulnerable areas, to be able to wake up at a moment’s notice when a stranger breached their space - a few seconds could easily mean the difference between life and death.  

Yet Eiji…. he was so utterly  _defenseless_ as he slept. Sing was maybe six inches away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed without the guy so much as fluttering his eyelashes. He slept on his back like a little kid, rather than the protective fetal curl that Sing favored. His body language indication zero sense of danger, zero protective instincts - he just slept with his chest exposed for all to see….. to stab, to mutilate if they so desired.  

He just slept so casually with his shirt riding up, like some debauched invitation. It was like something out of a harlequin novel, the surprisingly taut lines of his stomach and chest exposed like a feast at a banquet.  

Sing felt his mouth go dry. He reached over to pull down Eiji’s shirt to afford him a sliver of decency. 

“Ash….” Eiji murmured, voice softly accented as he talked in his sleep, stopping Sing’s hand mid-air. There was a note of such naked  _longing_ in that single syllable - it made Sing feel as though he’d stumbled upon something far too intimate.  

“I’m sorry,” Sing said, knowing already that his words were a pathetic attempt at applying a bandage at a gaping wound. “I know you guys were friends.” 

A tear slid silently down Eij’s cheek, trailing down his face like liquid mercury as it caught the moonlight.  

“A-Ash, come back,” the boy’s voice choked out.  

Sing’s hands moved moments before his brain caught up with him. 

He used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away the tear that had leaked out, his other hand running through the boy’s silky strands of hair, spilling like ink on snow-white pillows. It was the best approximation he could manage of the consoling gesture he’d seen Nadia do on a few occasions.  

“We’ll get through this, I promise,” Sing said, unsure even as he said them why he was using  _we_ , why he felt the need to console this perfect stranger, why he gave a shit at all about the tears of the guy that called himself Ash’s friend, who- 

Eiji nestled into the heat of Sing’s hand, sweet and trusting as a newborn puppy. 

Something in Sing’s chest cracked.  

He could feel his heart crumbling into pieces, that simple gesture prodding at something far deeper and more tender in the depths of his chest. It made him want to cry, want to cradle this naive boy that slept with man-eating tigers, and keep him safe.  

It made it so very, very clear why Ash cherished this stupid, soft creature desperately, why he let himself be bound to a being that was nothing but a burden.  

Such tenderness, such unabashed trust… they were more rare and valuable than jewels. Blessed was the man freely offered such a gift.  

As he stared at Eiji, bathed in moonlight, Sing found himself desperately needing a word - an  _excuse_ \- to explain the reason why his eyes found themselves riveted to the unearthly being before him. 

* * *

 Sing should have realized that he was an intruder in their midst.  

He should have realized it the first time he saw the way Ash hovered around Eiji like a moon. He should have realized it as he took in the way Ash’s eyes melted, that he didn’t look at Eiji so much as  _gazed_ at him, as though drinking in the sight. He should have realized it as Ash traced his hands gingerly along the curve of Eiji’s face, the way Eiji’s eyes slid closed with such contentment that it left a sweet ache in Sing’s heart.  

He should have realized it the first time he saw how Eiji went on his tip-toes and hugged Ash, the way Ash’s hands trembled uncertainly before returning the embrace. He should have realized it as he took in the quiet domesticity of Japanese cuisine heaped upon American dinner plates, the orderly scrawl of kanji and Latin letters on notes littered across the table surfaces. He should have realized it as Eiji regarded Ash with unabashed affection, eyes seeming lit from within and burning like embers.  

He should have realized it, and yet…. all the same, it felt like his chest being crushed in two.  

_I don’t_ belong _here. I don’t belong._  

He should have taken his feelings and ground them into a pestle, drank them down like the bitter swill they were.  

He should have refused Ash’s polite invitation to come over for dinner, yet like the masochist he was, he sat alone on the couch. Eiji and Ash were having a hushed discussion in the kitchen as they prepared dinner together, as if to underscore how utterly unwelcome and intrusive he was. He knew Ash wasn’t above psychological torture,  though he hadn’t thought that Eiji was cruel enough to stoop to that level.  

“Eiji wanted a night without all the gang shit,” Ash had said, the stain of pink on his cheeks betraying the blase delivery of said invitation.  

Sing couldn’t understand it, which frustrated him all the more. He felt like he’d spent enough time in Ash’s company over the past few weeks to learn these seemingly inconsequential details about Ash that, if anything, made his feelings that much harder to reconcile: Ash tended to hum when he was busy cooking, constantly fidgeted with pens or his phone to keep his fingers busy, and he always flushed when he felt self-conscious.  

These were things that one only learned when a man left down his guard enough to let them show. Things that a friend, a  _lover_ , might know. Things that Sing cherished, things that made the gulf that existed between Him and Them feel like a raw wound.  

He knew full well that he would never come close to dwelling within that sacred universe that Eiji and Ash inhabited.  

“What’s got you all mopey?” Ash asked as he leaned against the wall, a steaming mug of coffee cradled in his hands. “I must be a piss-poor host if you’re sitting there lookin’ like your cat just died. You didn’t even hear me coming, did you?”  

“Just a lot to think about,” Sing answered with a dismissive wave of the hand. He fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket and pulled out a loose thread.  

Ash settled onto the sofa next to him, propping his feet up on the coffee table.  

“Better not be about your gang,” he drawled, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. “Eiji might poison your food if you wreck his plans.”  

Sing noticed that rather than wearing shoes, as he typically did, Ash was barefoot. Such a stupid thing to notice, to marvel at, and yet… 

Sing’s fingers manipulated the thread into a minuscule ball, desperate to distract his attention.  

No matter how much he tried to tune out seemingly tiny details like that, his traitorous heart was a magpie. It collected whatever scraps it could, like the way Ash’s skin always carried the crisp scent of soap, consuming his awareness like a siren song. He wanted to memorize the way Ash’s shirt had a few strands of golden hair clinging to it like fine threads, the way he was impatient and blew on his coffee to drink it right away, how his eyes narrowed with pleasure every time he took the first sip.  

And how utterly delicious he looked as he showcased the slender column of his throat, elegant as a swan’s... and littered in rosy marks that reached just above the line of the collar.  

Sing felt his stomach churn unpleasantly, appetite entirely gone. He knew the source was bustling around in the kitchen, preparing the dinner for the vile guest lusting after them both.  

_I don’t belong here, I don’t-_  

“I-I should go,” Sing blurted out, moving to get up from the sofa and leave before he did something truly stupid.  

Lightning-quick, Ash’s hand gripped Sing’s forearm, pulling Sing back onto the couch with surprising force.  

“Why?” Ash challenged. “You’ve been weird since you got here, Sing. What’s your issue?”  

“I don’t have any,” he replied.  

Ash fixed him with a scowl that reminded Sing of the blood-stained vision surrounded by gun shells upon the floor. Just like it had then, it held him prisoner and made his heart thunder beneath his ribcage. Just like it had then, it made him utterly fucking weak.  

“You’re lying,” Ash stated. It wasn’t a question.  

Sing answered with a roll of the eyes, giving away nothing. He kept his eyes glued to the wall, not trusting himself if he were to meet Ash’s eyes right now. He needed to extricate himself from Ash’s claws and get the hell out of here. It was too dangerous, too dangerous… 

“Then why are your pupils all big like that?” 

Dilated pupils were a sign of other things as well, but Sing would rather jump off the roof than give Ash any ideas.  

A chilly pair of hands cupped the sides of his neck, cradling his head into place even as his eyes remained resolutely fixed on a distant point. He felt Ash’s thumb pressed lightly against his pulse point - not to cause injury, but with an oddly curious touch that made Sing feel dizzy.  

“Why is your heart racing?”  

Ash’s voice was soft, as though speaking to a spooked animal.  

“Sing… why won’t you look at me?”  

_Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look-_  

Sing felt a tear slide down his cheek. The first time he could ever remember Ash touching him at all, let alone with such unexpected tenderness… it wasn’t fucking  _fair_ . After all this time, that Ash should finally touch him, give him a glimpse into what his most hopeless dreams could conjure up, and it had to be just moments before it all went up in flames.  

He settled for closing his eyes instead, memorizing the way Ash’s fingers shifted from his neck to the sides of his face. He knew Ash could see him crying like a baby, and that mockery was already on the tip of his tongue. Sing couldn’t find it in himself to care terribly much - the second his feelings came out, he’d be lucky if he were left in enough pieces to feel the capacity to mourn.  

Perhaps he could brand the sensation of it into his flesh, the smell of Eiji’s homemade cooking drifting into the living room. Perhaps then he could memorize it, encase it in glass like a beast and his rose; he could build a fortress in his mind to store those memories. It’d be the envy of all, adorned with the most decadent of his yearnings and fantasies. In the palace of his mind, there was not two but three, a holy trinity that neither God nor hell could sunder.  

It’s not like anyone but him would dwell within its hallowed halls.  

He felt a pair of lips brush against his cheek.  

Startled out of his thoughts, Sing’s head whipped up in shock. Ash was regarding him with exasperated fondness, as though readying himself to console a child crying over ice cream. 

“You feel something for me, don’t you? And for Eiji. I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think nobody’s paying attention. I’ve felt how much your heart races if I so much as  _touch_ you.”  

Again, it wasn’t a question. It was a statement.  

“You feel like a third wheel, am I right? It must be  _torture_ , being around two people flaunting what you think you can’t have. Is that why you’re so desperate to leave?”  

Anger surged through Sing’s chest, a blessed reprieve from the grief ready to crush him.  

“Why invite me here in the first place if you know all that?!” he cried. “I like you, I like Eiji, ‘cause I’m a fucking moron! I know it’s stupid! Why rub it in my face? What, are you here to give me a polite reminder to stay the fuck out?”  

Ash tipped up Sing’s face up, forcing Sing to finally meet his gaze. There was nothing resembling disgust, anger, shock… none of the expressions he had anticipated Ash might wear.  

It was closer to the soft looks that he directed towards  _Eiji_ , which left Sing more confused than before. He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t decipher the way Ash’s thumb touched - no,  _caressed_ the line of his jaw, as though he were something precious. He couldn’t interpret why Ash’s eyes looked at him so kindly when he’d admitted to having the kinds of feelings that got men killed.  

Sing licked his lips subconsciously… and saw the way Ash followed the motion keenly. Sing was grateful he wasn’t standing at that moment - he felt as though his knees had turned to jelly.  

“Ash, I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Sing admittedly weakly. Ash’s head tilted ever so slightly in confusion, yet he remained quiet to let Sing continue. “You clearly have a… a _thing_ with Eiji, and yet…” 

“And yet you never considered the possibility of reciprocation,” Ash cut in. “Eiji doesn’t give a damn about what’s normal, and neither do I.”  

_What?_  

Sing felt like he had been thrown off a cliff, feet pinwheeling in the air as he waited for gravity to take hold. Instead, Ash’s face lingered dangerously close to his own, breath whispering against his skin like a promise. Ash could have asked him to do anything… and with his rapidly eroding willpower, Sing would have done so with pleasure.  

“We didn’t ask you here to tell you to stay out; we asked you to come here to invite you in.”  

Sing had so many questions on his mind, so many things he needed to clarify.  

Does Eiji know -  _really_ know? What would this mean for their gang? Did anything change with their living arrangements? Did their gangs have to know? Did- 

Instead, Sing blurted out artlessly, “C-can I kiss you?”  

Breathless, hasty, and as reckless as a starving man thrust before a banquet. He could have shot himself -  _stupid, stupid, what the_ fuck _were you thinking…_  

“I thought you’d never ask.”  

Sing felt the press of Ash’s lips against his, the touch cautious and whisper-soft, almost uncertain. He could feel Ash’s calloused thumb stroking against the line of his jaw out of either ardor or reassurance - he wasn’t quite sure which, but the intention was unmistakable, as if to ground them both. If he had to be honest, Sing thought it was more of Ash wanting to see what his lips felt like, experimenting with the way their mouths brushed against one another - it was far more chaste than Sing would have expected from someone like Ash.  

Yet even such a light caress made Sing feel as though he’d taken a few too many sips of wine. It was all he could do to still his trembling hands enough to meet Ash halfway, bringing his own hand up to thread into the golden strands of hair that had captivated him so many times.   

“I see you two have already discussed things,” Eiji’s voice chimed in cheerily, and for what felt like the dozenth time that hour, Sing jumped in surprise as he tried to calm down his racing heart. Glancing at Ash, he was surprised to see that the blonde looked completely unruffled, as though Eiji had merely asked him to pass the salt, rather than being caught lip-locked with another man.  

“I mean… we didn’t get a chance to discuss it as much as I would have liked. But he asked me so nicely, I couldn’t bear to turn him down,” Ash teased, throwing Sing a playful wink.  

Eiji walked over to the couch with three bowls balanced on his arms, carrying one in each hand and the third nestled into the crook of his elbow. He offered Ash and Sing their respective bowls - Japanese-style  _congee_ , Sing noted, sprinkled with bonito flakes and green onions - and settled himself comfortably between Ash and Sing, as though it was an established part of their routine.  

A pitifully small part of his heart dared to dream, dare to quietly ask.  

_Maybe in time, it could be._  

“What a gentleman,” Eiji chuckled. He gave Sing a wink of his own and said, “He’s a sucker for romance. You really want to charm him, get him flowers.”  

“He can figure it out on his own,” Ash retorted. “Besides, he’s not a sap like you.”  

“Well, this sap just cooked your dinner. Next time I'll give your serving to Sing, and  _you_ can starve.”  

The gaping cavity in Sing’s chest - that raw, aching wound from before - felt suffused with something warmer and purer than sunlight. Ash’s and Eiji’s words, light-hearted as they were, were laced with a vow that felt so sweet that he could have cried.  

Sing’s words felt like a tentative knock at the door, fingers curled in uncertainty as he waited for them to open the door.  

“I’ll teach you to make it Chinese-style. It’ll be so hot, your hair’ll turn red.”  

Eiji regarded Sing with a knowing smile, hearing the query in its tones.  

_Come on in,_ that grin seemed to say. The way his eyes crinkled fondly at the edges, the way his eyes met Ash’s for just a moment, was like the intimacy of their hands at the small of his back, guiding him in like a treasured guest. 

No, even then, he knew that wasn’t it. There was nothing detached or exclusionary in the way they had Sing nestled between the two of them, the way Eiji pressed a bold kiss to Sing’s cheek to punctuate their banter. Eiji had never done such a thing, but it immediately felt so right, as though they had done so all along.  

Not a guest. Rather, it was their hands guiding him as they said, “Welcome home.” 

“I’d like that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my Secret Santa gift for **knoxoursavior** \- they wanted some simple SingEiji fluff, but over time, I realized that there was a sore lack of AshEijiSing food in the fandom. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy it! :)


End file.
